Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Bryan Formals is a photographer based in Queens, NY, and the editor of LPV Magazine and Photographs on the Brain. The following conversation is edited from a series of short chats conducted over the past few weeks.Blake:You seem to take issue with the idea of trophy-hunting photographers. Which I sort of buy into. The problem with that outlook is that photography in general is built on that model. Isn't the whole endeavor a sort of trophy hunt, weeding out what's worth showing vs. what isn't? Some photos ARE more special than others. Right?

Bryan: "Weeding out what's worth showing vs. what isn't" - Showing where? That'd be my first question. But yes, of course you make edits the moment you push the shutter.

Showing as a photo. As a photographer choosing what to photograph.

Don't you ever make a photograph that you know might not be special? I make photographs of random stuff all the time. Perhaps it's just for research at times. Or because I want to remember a visual idea.

Yes, but that doesn't mean some aren't special. You can identify those later.

I think I take offense to the term "special". I mean, do some have more visual value in certain contexts? Yes, I think they do.

You don't think Special has meaning? Your criticism of Richard Kalvar revolves around his trophy-hunting aesthetic. He is the classic street shooter seeking out rare situations, then isolating them. Isn't that sort of a refined version of what we all do as photographers?

Yes. But I think my criticism is more about the editing. In fact I think he may have even more "special" photographs that he's not showing.

So he's not a good editor?

Hard to say. But I think he's editing for only one type of presentation, which are books I'm guessing. And who knows, Kalvar could have dozens of dummy books laying around that he just shows his friends. Which would be awesome.

He's only published one.

I don't think it's him in particular I have an issue with.

I'm just using him as an example because that set off the reaction. But I think he represents a certain photographic outlook which you may be reacting to.

A particular moment seized in 1982 by Richard Kalvar

Yes, I agree. And that outlook may in fact be the way to go.

Don't go wishy washy on me.

But I'm not sure it's the most interesting RIGHT NOW.

I feel the tension between shooting for certain frames vs. trying to tie those frames together into structures that may have less to do with specific moments. But really I've always been a single frame guy. Honestly.

I don't know about that. I think all your photographs flow together and overlap in interesting ways. That's the beauty of it. You can cut them up in a variety of interesting ways. It's like the guy from Beijing Silvermine. He doesn't want to make a book because he doesn't want there to be an "authoritative" edit of his work. He wants multiple interpretations. Multiple perspectives and view points.

It's the Rubinfein vs Winogrand issue. Whose voice is that SFMoMA show representing?

Yes, who is editing the photographs and for what purpose. This all gets really confusing with the internet though. Which is why I'm sometimes wishy washy.

Well, 100 years from now I think whatever edits we come up with will have washed away. I think it's just gonna be single images surviving. So they need to be strong.

Hmmm. Well, I think they'll all be in a huge archive. Again, I don't know what strong means really. Maybe aesthetics will change drastically. And all the stuff we thought was garbage were actually the gems. What's a good photograph? Don't ask me. I'm very skeptical of my own taste.

"For Foster, a print’s history is far less important than its visual beauty and the response it inspires. “It doesn’t really mean anything to me, who shot the image,” says Foster. “But when I do find an image that’s one of the best, I just flip out about it. I like thinking that it could be a Lee Friedlander or a Diane Arbus or a Henri Cartier-Bresson.”Years of photo-hunting have helped Foster train his eyes to recognize an interesting composition among the thousands of snapshots at flea markets and antique shops. “I’ll pick up a handful of a hundred, and I flip them like a deck of cards, because I can tell that quickly whether they have any intrinsic visual power at all or not,” says Foster. “Out of a hundred, I might find a single one that’s even a maybe. That goes to show you how many average, boring, mundane, same height, same scene, same everything is repeated in these old images.”

That's pretty devastating actually.

That passage assumes that some images are "special" and some aren't. That even in a pile of junk snapshots some photos might rise up just by virtue of a singular moment.

Yes, and again, they may be right. But I'm skeptical. I mean, how many minutes on earth have there been? In all 4.5 billion years? We've only been imaging for how many of those seconds? So, in that perspective, I think everything is special.

Give or take a few hundred million.

But you see what I'm getting at? We're talking about art, right?

What the fuck is art?

Well, exactly. Some guy going through my negatives might like the picture I took of my feet because it was weird and twisted. But from a historical perspective I think my documentary work would be better, or stronger or more special. But perhaps not. And perhaps I'm fooling myself. There's always a chance of that.

But show your negatives to 500 people, and they might generally agree on the same set of images. Not that popular opinion matters but they might reflect some judgement about which photos "work".

I would be very curious.

Which infers that some do and some don't, regardless of sequencing, etc. The ones which Foster might like. The ones which Kalvar is after.

Spread from The Present, Paul Graham

Unless you put two or three together. Which ones work in The Present? Do they all work? I mean, some of them I think are absolutely horrible. Dreadful, like some of the worst shit I've seen.

Graham?

Yes. I mean, there are some fucking awful street photographs in that book! But I weirdly like them in the context. I don't know why. Well, I kind of do know why.

I haven't seen the book but I don't really like what I've seen online. But that's fine. I wouldn't use him as an example of photos that "work". Maybe they only work in conjunction with others?

Yes, I think so. They only really work in the book. And on the wall. From what I remember. But the book is terrible. It's tough to stomach. I also love it.

What do you love about it?

I love how he shows that the moment before and moment after the 'decisive' photograph are important and can have value. They're like a bridge that gets you to where you need to go.

Those moments have value?

Yes! They are special. It's very true from my perspective as a street photographer.

I'd probably disagree.

Why?

I'm not dogmatic about it being one Decisive Moment. But you can't just pull shit out of your ass and slap a "value" label on it. I mean, pull anything off of Flickr that's a mistimed moment. Call it special. Just because he's Paul Graham he gets a pass? It goes back to trophy hunting. I guess I'm a trophy hunter.

I don't think he pulled it out of his ass. He's been making photographs for years. And has fine tuned his sensibility. He knew what he was doing when he pushed the shutter.

I have to see the book. But I'm skeptical.

I said the book was terrible. I think we are getting caught up on the baseline good/bad dichotomy. That's not what I'm really talking about. Naturally there are just garbage photos that we all toss out. What I'm more interested in are the A/B/C definitions. If there are 60 photos in the book, what's the break down? And what value do the B/C photos have in the online world? For me, this is when it gets more interesting. But people like Kalvar seem to have the "only show your very best photographs" mindset. Which does makes sense I suppose...but it just doesn’t seem like the reality these days. And I think with the way we're archiving work online, it might turn out that our B/C photos are the most interesting.

Hmm. I'd rather look at A photos. Especially with so many flooding every orifice now. Why bother with second-best? Of course determining which ones are A photos is a whole different problem. What do you do with your B/C photos? Do you keep them in a separate folder?

I use LightRoom.

Do you label them according to which are "best"?

I use the star system. Just looking at A photos is so boring. I don't even understand that logic. It's this hierarchical thinking that I find counter intuitive. I look at the whole pile. Good is only in relation to the other photographs around them. A photos compared to what? In relation to my other photos, they might be MY best. But are they better than Eggleston? OK. No. So are they still A photos? Should I even bother showing them if they're not better than Winogrand, or Eggleston or Koudelka?

So because they don't compare to Eggleston you're going to show your worse photos? I don't get it.

I'm saying, my BEST doesn't compare to Eggleston or Shore or those guys, so why even bother showing anything? If the whole game is to just show the best photographs in the world, how can you ever win? Why even compete?

That's a bit defeatist.

Exactly.

And if you're going to show anything at all, I'd recommend showing your best.

I don't agree. That's not the reality on the web either, at least in my opinion.

Ok, so where are you going with this? You want to show B/C photos? Toward what end? Just to play with editing?

Sure, and to share, and to archive. Because how do I know I'm choosing the BEST photos?

The standard system as it's handed down to most of us, is you shoot a ton, thousands. You edit down to the one or two or maybe none that live up to whatever standard you want. That's Kalvar's approach. And the general street shooter's outlook. So if I understand you, you're taking a different approach.

Perhaps someone looks at my Flickr and comes up with a different interpretation.

But that's so wishy washy. It's putting aesthetic decisions completely in the hands of editors. Which I'm not discounting. I think there's value there. But some photos work, and some don't. Regardless of edit.

I'm opening up the process. Not leaving everything to editors.

What does that mean?

It's like showing the fucking contact sheets.

Ah, now we get back to Graham finally...

Maybe not contacts…but longer edits. I wouldn't show EVERYTHING. Not by a long shot.

I'm with you in a way. The reason I never mark up my contacts is because I have this fantasy that I may come along later and choose different frames. And the marks would predispose me toward my first edit. But of course I never go back and look at them again.

But you might.

If I lived to be 1000.

I mean, for Genesee I went back to the negatives about four different times after I thought I had an edit locked down. I ended up finding 4 photographs that made the book. It's confusing.

from Genesee, Bryan Formhals

And if you went back in 2 months maybe 4 others would surface.

Right? That's what bothers me.

That's what makes me nervous about making books.

Exactly! But don't be wishy washy! Ha. Maybe you’ll make a better edit in 25 years. To me, that's kind of fucking awesome. I mean, dude, this is a game to me. It's for my amusement. I love the entire fucking process and I want to play with it.

OK. Let me ask you straight up. Are some photos better than others as singles shots? They will get an A which never goes away? Regardless of edit.

Yes. I'd say so. I could certainly pick the photos of mine that I think are the best. It's a tough feeling to ignore.

But you don't necessarily want to show only those.

No, not really. Because I like the photographs that I'm not certain about. Basically everything I'm doing now. I honestly don't know. I think if I did make any decent photos in LA it might have been a fluke.

Yes, there is that middle ground which is a problem. Maybe it is The problem. The photos that don't quite make the cut yet there's something about them. They aren't trash either.

Yes! It's that bad feeling.

That could be a book. Maybe LPV 7. Deliberate middle ground.

That would be tricky. It's so fluid.

What do you think about Frank's Butte Montana hotel window photo?

I love it.

I'm guessing it wasn't on his A list.

Tough call. But no, I don't think so. It would be interesting to hear what an actual editor or publisher has to say. Jack Woody or Michael Mack. It's an interesting time for books.

OK, but those guys are basically re-affirming the A-List. They're defining it. At least for books.

Sure, but I'm wondering how they go about trimming 200 photos down to 60. That's what I was talking about. Do they create a pile of A photos? B? C? Or do they start sequencing right away? Do they create piles by subject? That's the stuff I want to know about. Did you see the Michael Mack interview? I thought that was really good.

Yes. Great interview. Great books.

The mechanics of it all....

Maybe the process is different for each book. Pull some D list photos out just for kicks. That's what The Pixies would do.

Yeah.

And those D photos raise the quality of all others in comparison.

It's interesting how some bands won't play their hits because they're so fucking sick of them. Music seems much more liberating than photography.

I've always hated Greatest Hits albums. And I think your philosophy leads into why. If it's just hit hit hit that grows boring. Whereas an album with foibles and weirdness can seem stronger.

I think that's accurate.

I'm just nervous about the arbitrary nature of picking "hits" and "misses". It takes a lot of craft to find the balance. The Americans is Exhibit A. It's not a greatest hits monograph. Or The White Album.

I guess I don't really think about it that much.

I think you've thought about it. As an editor...

I guess I'm drifting more into the artistic mindset.

Just what we need. Another fucking artist.

Yeah, exactly. I guess you could call it the photographic mindset. I could be doing everything wrong. But I'm doing what feels right.

I hate printing my "favorites". I feel like once I've printed them nicely they're done. And I never want to show them again. I just made a print by request of that broken sidewalk photo again. I don't think I want to look at that one for a while.

Yeah, they become boring.

But I could get just as sick of my B/C prints if I printed those. I just have a short attention span.

I'm so bored with my Genesee book now. I couldn't go back and do anything with it if I wanted. It's just not there anymore.

But I haven't even seen the book. Where is it?

It's on Blurb. But I'm calling it a dummy. I set the price at $250.

I guess you gotta really want it.

I don't want anyone to buy it.

WTF?

I just want it archived on Blurb. I'm going to send it to select people. I sent one to my parents.

But that's a perfect audience, with no preconceptions. You don't think they really understood them in the way you intended?

I'm not sure it's that hard to understand. It's basically, "Hey, here are some color photographs I made while I was in LA!"

Is that how you'd explain them to a photographer?

Depends on the day and depends on the photographer. But yeah, I think that's the gist of it. I could make up some stuff about psychogeography I suppose. I'd rather just tell stories about walking around LA. I prefer conversation. But we live in an artist statement kind of world.

I was just at Photolucida where everyone had their canned five-minute introduction to their work ready at hand. The photos seldom did all the talking.

I'm going to send a couple copies to friends in Cali. They're in the book.

So Blurb is just the production vehicle. Not for sale.

Yeah...maybe. Don't know. I'm trying to figure it out. I thought the printing was much better than I'd seen. I used the high quality paper. Also, I want a copy for myself. So I have the photographs printed in some form or another.

If you buy one for $250, you just made like $150 in profit! You should buy 500 copies.

Yeah I guess. I'll keep track of who I send them to. There's a very good chance that I'm using my own work to practice making books. I have a feeling I might get into publishing books.

Cool. It seems like a natural step.

Yes. I don't know though. Hard work! At this point, I don't really have anything else to do. I'm sort of stuck with photography and myself.

I hope you weren't offended by my advice about publishing your work in LPV. It was just my opinion. It's your magazine. You might ask what others think. I'd be curious.

Alfred Steiglitz's vanity project

Yeah, most people have said go for it. I think most of these magazines are vanity projects anyway.

But that move sort of cements it. Was Camerawork a vanity project?

Probably. Was Aperture? What's the risk? If people don't want to follow, fuck them. I'm tired of this attention game. It's corrosive. I think it's the best set of photographs I've made.

From where?

I've been photographing the neighborhoods under the 7 train in Queens.

Where are they? Online somewhere?

Nope. Haven't shown anyone.

So LPV is the big splash?

Yes. Along with an essay. But, we'll see. I may just publish it to Blurb and send it to my parents.

[After more deliberation Bryan decided against publishing his own work in LPV]

Chris Verene posted on FPN about deliberately holding back work online, to allow photo exhibits some space to make an impact outside of the web. I think Lauren Henkin took the same approach a few years ago.

That's probably smart.

I do the same thing but no grand strategy. I'm just backlogged. So nothing new is ever posted.

Yeah, I have other stuff to publish.

But it's a deliberate act to hold back. It must be killing you not to share.

No, not really. I think they're good.

Now you've got me curious. I guess I'll see it when I see it.

Well, they're just photos, street photos.

I saw a bunch of stuff at Photolucida that was new to me. Too much really to digest. It's just a little corner of the photo world but so much shit out there to keep track of.

Yeah, it's impossible. I was at AIPAD a few weeks ago. It's crazy.

Name one thing you saw which impressed.

I don't remember anything. I liked looking at the old documentary prints.

See that's the problem. The photos swamp you. You can't take it all in.

You want to know it all, right?

Soth touched on this in his Photolucida talk. He wants narrative. That's his filter. If he can't make it into a story, it can't grab his interest. So those are the photos he makes and likes. A good way of filtering, but not the only way.

Yeah, I think there's something to that.

His camp this summer is geared toward that. Socially awkward camp for storytelling. It turns photographers into novelists or oralists. Oralists? Bad choice of words. So that's one way of editing, through narrative. Which I think is dominant now partly thanks to him. I'm open to it. I just don't want that to be the only way. Everyone now seems to want their photos to tell some obscure story.

I asked on Twitter if you could pursue philosophy through photography.

Only if you're a photographer. Any response?

A couple witty comments. For me going on long walks is about much more than just making photographs.

"In my essay I argue that, without discourse, art loses density. I set up the interview blog to begin with so that art online wasn’t just re-blogs, “likes” and comments, but had some real sentiment and context to feed the viewer’s imagination and understanding of the art. In the introduction I’m talking about art that rarely leaves the Internet, because it’s seen as inherently amateurish, valueless or net-kitschy. We can freely self-educate now and as a result there’s a wealth of brilliant artists online, getting next to no real exposure. They deserve it! Ultimately, this problem really gets me going; there’s so much to talk about that hasn’t entered contemporary art discourse yet."

A reaction to what we might call abbreviated culture? Where thoughts and reactions are translated into simple likes and reblogs? Well, yeah. That's for people that want status in the art world.

That was the spark of my Approvals post. I'm into discourse but I suspect its best days are behind it. We are now into another era. No time for discourse. I get scared by the idea of all these photos sort of floating out there with no aesthetic value assigned.

Scared of what? I don't see what would be scary.

Scared of someone, Joe Schmo, coming along and editing them in a certain way. And that then takes on the heft of real criticism. ____ ____ defining the era. That scares me. When who knows why they picked those? And someone else might choose some completely different work. And, maybe the real problem, some of the work I see being curated in this way is definitely B/C work. They're not trophies in any respect.

Monday, April 29, 2013

Some pictures make me feel high, like been high before but get this feel like multiple universe or something with all these views. Like deja vu and Cubism. And we all lived 100 years ago in a different body. Did you know Cezanne washigh? As akite dude! so where did 4:20 come from I ask all myfriends no one can tell, like where? So there was a huge conference really big on April 20th that's 4:20 like where did that come from? Just from the sky I mean how didj they make that up? Anyway people were sparking up left and right and pot was just like free and open, like wild birds or something. And the cops laid off and it was fine. You ever look at wildbirdsImean really look at them? Like for hours? He could've been someone born 100 years ago Like I was saying Cezanne made these Cubist paintings that were all Square but from the side they looked like cubes like the name. Well this guy Theo Stroomer did the same thing but with cameras dude. On 4:20! I bet it was that Pineappleexpress. Shit knocks youout! He injected pot into his cameras or something fully baked. Colorado pot is strongt. Man am I hungry. More photos here. Wait did I say that already?

Sunday, April 28, 2013

1. Subways2. Roads/paths running toward the horizon3. Posters ironically juxtaposed with pedestrians4. Natural landscapes5. Anything outside U.S. borders6. People on bicycles7. Immediate family including parents, wives, and children

8. Clocks, calendars, the sun, or any other physical representation of time

9. 99% of Americans alive during his lifetime

10. Shadows for their own sake11. Friends, including other photographers12. Interior domestic scenes13. Decay/Entropy/Death14. U.S. racial minorities with the exception of African-Americans15. Any scene that would look the same one second later

Saturday, April 27, 2013

A week afterward Alec Soth's lecture last Friday is still reverberating in my head. I'd been told beforehand that he never gives the same talk twice, that he's loose with structure, maybe even approaching ADD in his fondness for wandering. So I wasn't sure what to expect beforehand. Still, I don't think I'ver ever seen a lecture quite like that one. I'm not even sure if lecture is the right word. It was more of a one hour brainstorming session. The only thing missing were chairs pulled into a circle and mugs of herb tea.

Soth set the stage with roughly 10 minutes of prepared remarks, but those few minutes were key. He explained that 1) The world is awash in photographs, and 2) He uses narrative to sort it all out. It wasn't a complaint so much as a strategy, one that's helped lay the framework for Sleeping By the Mississippi, Niagara, Broken Manual, the LBM Dispatches, all of his projects really. And it's served as a filter through which he can analyze other photo projects. If they don't follow a narrative he can set them aside. I don't know if that worldview works for everyone, but for him it does. To reinforce the narrative theme, Soth showed a few applications for his upcoming summer camp "Storytelling For Socially Awkward Artists" before opening it up to questions from the audience.

Many people lecture with the aid of a laptop nowadays, but it's usually implemented as a simple slide projector. Image 1, image 2, image 3, etc. Soth expanded this into a sort of meta-slide show. A large screen behind him displayed a continuous view of his computer desktop. We were shown inside folders and programs and given a full and free-ranging view of his thought process as he wondered out loud and looked for various files. It was a bit like a laptop therapy session, fully transparent and almost uncomfortably vulnerable.

Soth's card: Topics for discussion?

Soth loves lists. His former business card is one long list, and I think he uses lists to guide his photo projects, not exactly as checklists but as rough guides. So he opened the lecture with a list. I think it was called Portland Lecture 4/19 or something similar, though I don't remember exactly. There was The Eggleston Question. Robert Adams Vs. Weegee, John Cage and Ping Pong, Looking For Love, etc. There were about 15 items total but I could only write a few down before he was on to something else. Most of them remained unexplored. Each time someone asked a question it would trigger some brainstorm that he'd already considered. A folder on his desktop listed a few hundred of them roughly by topic. And inside each one were the bare bone graphics supporting a small train of thought. We'd watch him dig around through various files until he found the proper one, then launch into a 5 minute presentation. Adams/Weegee triggered one, as did Eggleston. We never got to John Cage and Ping Pong.

For someone so focused on narrative, the lecture came off as something approaching the opposite. It took its structural cue from narrative's enemy, Hyperlinking. That's the form of the web and the trending structure of much creative content. So it felt comfortable as an organizational form. But I'd never seen a lecture organized that way, and in such a relaxed and fluid fashion. If he gave the same talk the next night it might be completely different, just as every web surf has its own unique sequence.

Soth signed books afterward. The surrounding frenzy was more like a celebrity sighting than art talk. The sold out crowd bustled around his small table, jockeying for position, shooting snapshots and acting like the Beatles were in town. I talked to one guy who'd driven 6 hours to see him. I squeezed off a few frames from about 20 feet away, which was as close as I could get. Then I huddled with some friends and descended on a nearby bar where we tried to remember what was on that Portland Lecture list. I messaged Soth the next day to see if he'd send me a copy but never heard back. I guess I'll have to make up my own story about what was on it.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Todd Gross is a photographer based in Queens, NY. More of his work can be seen here and here.

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One of those days when I shoot for several hours and head home with near certainty that I have nothing but a bunch of shit on the memory card. It's during these keeper-less times that I'll grumble to myself, curse the camera, the light, the focal length of my lens, my potential subjects and myself. The black cloud descends. What's the point? What's the use?

I got off the 7 train right by my pad and noticed that they finally, finally closed the Crossroads Diner. I mean, it was no wonder. Talk about a shit house! Some of the most dreadful meals I've had in my life. I ate there all the time.

Anyhow, I figured now with the sun in the right place, it was time to get a few pics of the joint. As I approached I noticed the wind blowing the bag about. That scene in American Beauty crossed my mind, but I was undeterred. I made a few frames and walked home.

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This one was shot in Bryant Park in mid-town Manhattan, a five minute subway ride from my neighborhood. It was a favorite I-don't-feel-like-venturing-far lazy day location for me back in 2004. I had just purchased the same 60mm macro lens that Martin Parr used for his Common Sense series. A great piece of kit that can also be used as a normal lens. Also, quite an investment for me at the time. So I had to find something to photograph with it.

I was hanging out, probably shooting some chess players or sunbathers when I happened to glance down and catch these two in action. I figured...why not?

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I was killing time on Delancey Street, waiting for the man, when I noticed that New Roma Pizza was shuttered. This created a huge swath of red that wrapped around the corner. When I see big colors like this, I run to them like a fly to shit, arms flailing and eyes rolling back in my head like marbles.

I waited for a bit, making a few frames, when this family in red came strolling down the street. I have to say I wish I'd caught these folks with a bit more grace and precision. But this one will have to do.

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I often pick a neighborhood to explore with my camera based on what I'd like to have for lunch. This day I decided on the Mini-Star Diner in Astoria. I don't know why I'm attracted to that joint. It's far from special (good fries though) and there are far far better and more interesting places to chow in the neighborhood. But this was a Mini-Star day.

I had just gotten out of the train when I spotted the fella in the cherry-picker. Figured there's a photo in there somewhere. I saw the bird and the idea seemed obvious. After, I thought, well that's kind of silly but so what, right? Now I look at it and appreciate the tenacity of these pay phones more than anything. Either way, that was the shot of that day.

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I don't think there's a day that goes by when I don't have the desire to fit McDonalds into a photo somehow. The iconography, the food, the patrons, there is so much potential there. Here though, I was probably just following the light, which on Winter days at lunchtime shoots straight up the avenues of Manhattan. During the Summer, in the evening hours, the light shines across town through the side-streets. Just so you know.

Anyhow, first I spotted the well-lit dude devouring his Big Mac with some serious intent. I framed him up, made a few exposures, when Garry tapped me on the shoulder and reminded me to tilt the frame. Which was just in time for guy not having a good day to walk into the frame and complete this picture of current and future indigestion.

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Every New York street photographer has to make a pilgrimage to Coney Island at one point or another. It's a must, not because there is some unwritten rule but because Coney is a very generous location. There's an image to be made everywhere you look. Go. You will see.

Anyhow, I was shooting blanks all afternoon. I was ready to tear what's left of my hair out, when I ran into Bruce Gilden and his wife. I had a little chat with them and got to see Bruce in action. This was a not so small consolation in lieu of good photographs.

Feeling like a mo, I headed to Ruby's Bar for a few beers. I made some friends while sucking back budz and listening to doo wop and Billy Joel on the juke. The sun started to set. Well buzzed, I made my way to the train. I sat down in the car and made this picture.

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I hadn't been downtown to shoot in a long long time. I use to work in the area, so it's very familiar ground for me. But on this day everything seemed totally fresh and new. The air was cool and dry, the light was brilliant--which always inspires.

I was covering a lot of ground, feeling good, even making some frames that I was happy with. Having fun. I headed into the local Au Bon Pain for a piss break. I was standing in line (probably with my face in the phone), waiting my turn, when I happened to look up and saw this fellow lit just so. I got the connection between the lamp and the light straight away and made three frames before this gent moved on and it was my turn in the lav.

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The thing with shooting on the streets is, you've just got to believe. I mean, inevitably you will go through stretches of searingly painful soul crushing disappointment. Hours of walking about that add up to nothing more than corns on the foot. When I'm going through these dry spells, I comfort myself by imagining that I'm just laying the down-payment for future luck. After all, with no pain there's no gain. Ya gotta be in it to win it.

I was losing faith one afternoon when I spotted the red arrow. I thought, well that's nice but what else? Ok, I'll frame it up and see what happens. I didn't have to wait more than a minute for the gentleman in red to make his way by.

Just goes to show you.. something.

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Like most New Yorkers, I hate Times Square. I usually do my best to avoid the area. I'm not saying anything new when I note that It's an over-crowded, overly commercial cheezfest, jammed with tourists running about like chickens with the head cut off. Having said that, I do catch films now and again at one of the multi-multi-plexes on 42nd street. I had just gotten out of a show, had some time to kill, so I said sod it and decided to have a go at the area.

I was going through one of my (what I would now label as ill-advised) creamy bokeh adventure phases. I thought the lights of the square could look quite cool at 1.4.

I'm on a budget when I shoot film, every frame counts. There are no spraying and praying strategies that can indulged in like with digital. I loitered for quite a bit before I found the right subject. I think I chose wisely. I love this lady. She says it all for me.

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September of 2005. For various reasons, mostly personal, I was not having a good time during this era. I kind of woke up one day and realized I was an adult (!?), that life had started a while back but I hadn't been paying attention. Where have I been, where am I going? This was also the end of a very productive photographic period, I was feeling burnt out creatively. Maybe I had nothing more to say with the camera? I became frustrated and distracted.

This picture was made in Forest Hills, the neighborhood I grew up in. Specifically, this is the ritzy part of town, known as Forest Hills Gardens. With privately owned tree-lined streets and multi-million dollar English Tudor style houses. I've been drawn to this area throughout my life. First as a little kid taking afternoon walks with my Oma, later as a teen with friends horsing about, drinking beer and smoking dope. Even later just as a place to walk, think and chill out.

I was chilling with the camera this day, unenthusiastically pointing it at the ground or at the clouds when I spotted this guy sitting on a lawn looking just as out of sorts as I felt. I ran across the street and quickly took the shot. I didn't pick up the camera for five years after I made that frame.